Leaving Eden
by BlackHairdye.SilverFindings
Summary: He's the only one to lead them through the forest. He's looking for safe passage, she's just looking for business not romance. What a funny random happenstance. An original story about original character that live among the wizards and witches of England.
1. All The Things That I'm Scared Of

A/N: So, just a fic my friend and I are writing. Complete OCs, none of the Potter characters will appear, this is just fun set in Rowling's universe. So please. Read and enjoy.

Warnings:

Language

An Attempt at Something Serious.

**Leaving Eden**

**A Harry Potter Fanfiction**

**A Collaboration between and PunkRockFlowerChild**

**Prologue: All The Things That I'm Scared Of**

There is a place in the north of England that's guarded by the one of the world's oldest forests, a forest of twisted and knaweled branches, grown from fear and water with blood, for this forest has seen more then it's fair share of mischief, it's fair share of dead bodies. It has a local name, 'The Thorne', but none speak if for fear of the magic it may invoke. Those who fear it call it nothing, and those who don't venture into it. For at it's heart, once you're past the fear and the blood and the bodies, in the eye of the storm so to say, there is a market, a prize for crossing the roots of the redeemed. This market is a place of much renown, known for leagues, sought after by brave, and not for brave, men and woman.

But our story starts not with the tangle of branches and the market in the middle, no, our tale starts in a little cottage, just on the edge of the forest, a small two story thing, made of all orange bricks, and a thatched root. The face of the cottage was covered in plants, all clinging happily to the bricks, rose bushes crowding in the front, there was a river stone path to the red door and a rowan wood fence around the yard, blue smoke rose from the chimney. The cottage looked all together too nice to be sitting with it's back to the withered, grasping branches of the Bickerwoods, but it sat proudly before the Thorne, unintimidated to what sat at it's back. That is where our tale shall start. In the yard before the cottage.


	2. A Hard Life Full of Working

**Chapter 1: A Hard Life Full of Working**

The wind comes up off the road to the south, a crisp breeze, cooling the beads of sweat on the back of his neck. The man doesn't stop, he hoists the axe above his head and lets in fall, a dull thud, right through the wood on his chopping block. He pauses to retrieve another piece of wood before chopping at that one too. The man is huge, over six feet tall, with massive shoulders and biceps the size of a child's head. His hair is the color of flaxen wheat when it was dry, and mud when it is wet. He is clean shaven save for the light stubble dusting his cheeks, he just hasn't shaved in a while. The man is dressed in soft cotton and leather and clothing that has been worked and worn for years. A silver ring glints on his finger when the axe swings down again.

The wind comes again. This time it carries a scent on it.

The backdoor to the cottage opens and a woman steps out, on to the worn first step. She stands at least a foot shorter then the man, and wears a red and yellow shirt with hand knitted sweater that catches in the wind, her hands twisted up her apron, splattered with stains and something that glimmers like unicorn blood. She looks out a the road, pushing the hair that's escaped it's clasp out of her face. Her brows knit together in concern. The wind smells of something, something spicy and fragrant. Something dangerous.

He's stopped now, setting his axe on the ground, and looks at her with a smile. The smile drops slightly when he sees her absent look.

"Brígh?" He calls out, and she looks back down, away from the road, her face masking into one devote of worry. "Alright?" His voice is heavy with an accent that's half Scottish and half English.

"Fine." She replies walking down the rest of the way to stand at the bottom of the steps. "Elliot, do you smell that?" She asks looking to the road again.

Elliot smiles but he's still looking at her. "You? I just smell you." He closes the space between them in two long steps. Brígh rolls her eyes as he sweeps her up in a one armed embrace, against his broad chest. "Rain and dirt and magic."

"Stoooop." Brígh giggles pushing at his chest, her small hands smearing his leather jerkin with crushed bat spleens. Elliot drops her and tries to wipe the spleen off the front of his shirt.

"Oh, foul!" He exclaimed and Brígh laughs telling him that what he gets, he smirks and grabs her around the waist while she tries to dart back inside. "You think a few bat innards are going to stop me huh? Think again, Mrs. Cunningham." He kisses her neck and she cries out, giggling, her land lashing out, the fading light catching on her matching silver ring.

"Stop!" She giggles as they almost fall to the grass, her pulling and Elliot trying to keep her still. "Elliot I have the cauldron on!"

"So?" Elliot asks his stubble scrapping at her throat.

"So, if you don't let me go, the Goddamn house will burn down!"

The man finally lets her go and she turns to retreat back inside, he turns away and retrieved his axe from the ground where he had dropped it. The woman pauses at the door and rushes back over, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him lightly before running back inside. If there are any words exchanged between them, the clocked figure on the road can not hear them. The figure looks back the way they've come and then starts toward the cottage.

It's been a long time walking. Then again, it always is. She's used to it. The cloaked woman, just in her twenties, has already traveled father that many men will go in their entire lifetimes. It could be called wanderlust. It could also be called a combination of boredom, tax avoidance and wanderlust. The little black cat, she doesn't know about. The wee beast just joined in a few years ago and hasn't left since. Seems to have taken a liking to the woman, who, having noticed her destination - a small cottage with a very happy looking couple outside of it - has taken down her hood to reveal a thin, freckled face and a braided tangle of wild, red hair. Tempest O'Flaherty looks the cottage over as the couple heads inside it, sizing the matter up. These must be the forest guide thing folks, as they're really the only folks around. Tempest would know, she spent a good few days apparating and disapparating and walking all over these woods.

"Well, Loki," She says to the cat, in a voice twanging with an Irish brogue, "Let's go talk to the nice folk."

The smoke in the chimney has turned a shade of olive when Tempest gets up to the door, and it turns back to blue when he hand closes on the knocker. The knocker is a mermaid, her tail hinged to make the handle which one grabs to knock with and the door around the knocker is worn down, reveling the wood underneath. When Tempest knocks finally, the sun has just set and in the short distance to the cottage it has begun to rain, a light drizzle that freezes you to the bone. She knocks three times, and waits. She waits while there are noises inside, while the couple in the cottage move around, stumbling over things to the door.

_Their house must be very cluttered,_ Tempest concludes as the door opens. The man she watched in the yard stands before her and she realizes she has underestimated his size.

"Well. Hello there." the man says his shoulders take up the whole doorway. "can I help you little girl?" he could have said it in a patronizing way, but it doesn't sound like that.

"I'm looking for th' guide... erm, the guides, I suppose." Tempest replies. "I need someone to help me find the Market." In truth, she was usually able to find markets of this nature on her own. Being a seer, she could almost always do something to get herself un-lost. And if that didn't work, the wisps were generally fiercely attracted to her (which was not really the most helpful perk). This time, though, she had made up her mind to follow a guide. She had her own reasons. "I have to get there within the next few days."

"Why don't yeh come on inside then." the man says and moved aside to let Tempest pass him, into the front room of the house. as she stepped over the threshold she beheld that she was indeed right, their home was cluttered with a vast amount of magical paraphernalia. there were cauldrons stacked by the door sitting innocently next to a vast array of various knives and hatchets and axes. The shelves on the walls over flowed with books, spilling tombs onto the stone floor. the air in the cottage smells of nutmeg, and roses faintly, and of brunt paper.

"this way." the man said pointing to a door off of the front room, away from the piles of boots and books. "name's Elliot by the by," he has to duck to enter the next room.

"I'm Tempest." She replied.

"And you're looking to go to the market, yeah?" the room Elliot has led her into is large and just as filled with books, a table is pushed into the corner and there is a red sofa in the center of the room before a fire place that's burning green and sending off the colored smoke. "sit down alright, and I'll get us some tea. Milk, lemon or scotch?"

Tempest smiled as she sat down at the table, loosing her cloak. "May as well be scotch." The cat meowed its approval.

"My wife, she's just in the other room." he says ducking out and calling to her to that they have a guest before coming back and sitting next to Tempest at the table, bringing with him the tea. It seemed this is where he conducted business.

"Is she the guide, then?" Tempest asked, blowing softly on the tea. The cat jumped up and stuck his face in the cup, and Tempest shooed him away. "Yeh must be the brawn."

"It might surprise you." the woman calls from the door, in her hands are three bowls. "Elliot's actually got some brains under those muscles." she smiles and gestures to the pot in the fire "I take it you have not supped yet, would you dine with us? It's deer."

"Oh, yes please." Tempest nodded vigorously. Several tendrils of curled hair came loose from her braid. "I've et nothing but mushrooms for weeks. It takes its toll, ye know. Plus, the taste. Merlin's beard, they get worse every time..." She shrugged.

The woman smiled as she served the stew, hearty with vegetables that tempest was sure came from the garden in the front. "Well. You shall be glad, for there aren't any mushrooms in this." she hands over a bowl and a wooden spoon "how long have you traveled?"

"Seven and a half." Tempest answers promptly, then pauses. "Well, I mean... Off and on, yeah? Since I left school." She takes a large bite of stew.

"Years?" Elliot asks "Lass, you be travelin for seven years?" Tempest notices that the bowl Elliot takes is slightly bigger then the others. "and all you've been eating is mushrooms? No wonder you're but a wee sprout."

"Well," Tempest sighs, "Not much else fer me t'do. Weren't any good in school, but for divination and that sort." She smiled. "Besides, that sort can beg me bread when I need a break from the mushrooms."

"I wasn't much good in school either." Elliot nods, his mouth full of stew.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." His wife chides him with a smile and he waves her off. "Name's Brígh," she says

"Pleasure." Tempest replies, "Thanks fer th' stew." she raises her bowl slightly in a toast-like gesture.

Dinner is silent after that. There is only the sound of wooden spoons against ceramic bowls and finally, when the stew is gone and the sky outside is purple with night and the rain beats the windows, do the trio begin to talk of work. Of why Tempest is there.

"so you say you want to go to the market?" Elliot asks running a hand over his beard, wiping his mouth "you understand what that entails correct?"

"A' course I do." Tempest replies. "Th' usual amount a' danger an' intrigue." she nods. "I've been to my share of markets."

"But do you understand what crossing the Thorn means?" Elliot asks as Brígh leaves the room with dirty dishes and returns with wood for the fire.

"Mmm... No, not really." Tempest says.

Elliot exchanges a look with Brígh before turning back to Tempest. "Well. Any rumors you've heard bout it, bout it eatin people whole, leaving just their valuables behind of the crows to pick about, all those rumors are true. the forest feeds on people, on little girls who think they're brave enough to enter it. and that market, they say the thorn grew around it, to protect it. if you go into that forest looking for the market. well. only the gods know if you'll come out again."

"You've done it, 'avn't yeh?" tempest retorts. Elliot shuddered.

"Once. I've only been to the market once."

"And he almost died on the way out." Brígh stands behind him, putting her arms on his shoulders.

"If you're serious about this venture little girl, you best leave all hope at the door." Elliot says before he takes a pipe out "but, I'll take yeh. If you can pay."

Tempest remains calm through all of Elliot's harrowing tale - expressionless, even. "Well, see. I don't have nothin' t' lose. Hope in particular isn't part of my daily routine." She tells him. "But that means I haven't much t' give, just the same. So what'll yeh be askin'?" The cat, who's been prowling about the house, comes to sit on Tempest's lap.

"do you have any books?" Elliot asks finally and Brígh rolls her eyes turning and leaving the room. tempest can hear her on the stairs, creaking and groaning.

"A' course I do. Don't think I could live with meself if I didn't." She takes a palm sized, folded square of cloth from a cloak pocket. "They're in here." She sighed. "I may as well get rid of a few, the magic on this thing is faulty... Damn nice bag, though."

Its decided that Tempest will trade three of her spell books and one of the works of fiction she has for Elliot's services, as long as she does exactly what he says. As long as she doesn't do anything stupid. As long as she doesn't cause anymore trouble then she has to.

"you can sleep here for the night." Elliot says standing as their business is completed, holding the books close to his chest "we leave at first light." they walk out, entering the front room again, next to the staircase.

Brígh calls from the top of the stairs, "The bed's all made up."

"Is it now?" Elliot replies a quick grin on his face "I knew I kept you around for something." Brígh scowls, friendly like at him as there was a knock upon the door.

"Expecting anyone?" Brígh asks Tempest who shakes her tumble down of red hair. "Elliot..." Brígh moves fast, pulling Tempest up the stairs, her wand flying out, whip fast. Elliot's at the door, a huge axe in his strong hand, holding it ready, one hand on the weapon, one on the door. Brigh's arm is extended out protectively over Tempest. Tempest just sighs, not seeming to think much of these events.

"Are you Elliot Cunningham?" the rain soaked visitor asks, his voice filling the entryway. "I'm looking for safe passage. Through the Thorn. Please. I need help."

"Elliot," Brígh calls her wand still at the ready. "Move." she comes down the stairs and stands at Elliot's elbow, the big man backing off, lowing the axe. Tempest stands on her tiptoes, trying to see around Elliot, to see who's at the door.

"I mean no harm." the visitor says. "As I said, I'm just looking for a way through the Thorn. I've heard there's a couple around here who will help me. Aren't you them?" Tempest still can't see him on tiptoes - no small wonder, since Elliot's massive and she's damn short - so she maneuvers her way around his arm and looks out from under it. The newcomer is tall but thin, with light skin and dark hair, scruff around his chin and big brown eyes. He notices Tempest looking and smiles. She just blinks back. Loki trots past the gathering of people to rub up on the visitor's legs. Elliot watches the cat for a moment before nodding

"That's us. Come in. Get out of the rain 'for you catch a toothache and die."

The newcomer smiles and walks inside, stooping to scratch the kitten's ears first. He stares out into the forest for a moment before shitting the door firmly. "Thank you very much." He says to Elliot, with a polite nod.

"Thank the cat." Elliot mutters setting the axe down with an echoing clunk.

"Let me take your coat," Brígh says "You're soppin'. I suppose it's bucketing hard then I though."

"Yeah, it's right fearsome out there. I was afraid I wouldn't find this place tonight." He gives another polite nod as he folds up his coat and hands it to Brígh. Tempest quirks up an eyebrow at him. "Oh, I'm sorry. My name's Ewan. I almost forgot." He says, looking sheepish.

"Nice to meet you." Brígh says, "You've already met Elliot, and I'm Brígh. This is Tempest. She's looking for passage too. So. You two should get to know each other very… well."

"A pleasure." Tempest says, holding out a hand for him to shake. He takes it, and the cat appears again. "This is Loki, by the way."

"Like the god of chaos?" Gabriel asks.

"Chaos, mischief and change." Tempest clarifies.

Brígh smiles and held her hand out toward the stairs. "I'll take you to your room if you like." She tells Tempest. "Elliot's just through there," She points to the sitting room "You'll want to talk to him." Ewan smiles again and turns toward the room, Tempest looking after him as if to follow.

"Of course." Tempest replies, gathering the cat and her belongings into her arms, or in the cat's case, onto her shoulder.

Brígh takes her up the stairs, past more books, to a room at the end of the hall, a spacious thing with a bed covered in homemade quilts, lit by oil lamps that Brígh turns up with a wave of her wand. There's a wash bin in the corner, and a screen hiding a tub that smells like lavender and anise.

"I poured you a bath; I figured that you might want one." Brígh informs her "And now, it seems that you'll be rooming with Mr. Ewan." She waved her wand again and another bed crashed down on to the hardwood floor. "Hope you don't mind."

"Its fine." Tempest replied. "I'm sure I'll manage."

"Splendid." Brígh smiles one last time and bids Tempest goodnight, reminding her that they leave at dawn before leaving with an almost silent giggle.

Brígh walks downstairs silently entering the sitting room and watching Elliot haggle over his price with the new boy. In the light from the fire Elliot looks like a haggard prince from her very own fairytale, the line on the right side of his mouth and under his eye standing out more then usual, the beard he's started to grow making him look older, his brows dipping in, toward each other every so slightly. He's aged a lot since they first met, but she's not a young maid anymore either. After she takes Ewan to the guest room, Brígh returns to the sitting room, Elliot lounging in front of the flicking fire, a pipe in his mouth. The smoke from his pipe is simple, tinged blue, it doesn't change color, it just spirals away from him. Brígh smiles and joins him on the couch, his eyes are dark, troubled.

"You fear that market." She whispers. Elliot puts his massive arm around her and she curls into the space. They are silent for a moment, Brigh's fingers curling into the wool of his sweater "I'm going with you."

"What?" Elliot looks at her surprise changing his eyes from grey to a their normal blue. "No. I won't let you."

"Don't you dare tell me it's too dangerous. I saved you from that forest." Brígh retorts leaning forward to glare at her husband. "I won't let you go in without me."

"I can take care of myself."

"Elliot." She lays a hand on his cheek, "Please. I'm going with you this time. It's not safe for you to go alone, not that deep." Elliot looks up at her, his blue eyes clearing for a moment and she can see the self-hatred in them. "I love you." She whispers leaning closer to him, "No matter what."

He doesn't try to shrug her off, ignore the truth of her words, just leans forward, his lips ghost light on hers, like the dream of a kiss.

* * *

Ewan, standing awkwardly in the doorway of the guest room, notices first how close the beds are to each other and then that the room smells like hot water and lavender. He clears his throat to announce himself, and the cat, Loki, looks up at him through half-closed eyes from his place atop a pillow. There's a faint sound of quiet snoring, and Ewan's confused at first, as he thinks it's the cat. After a moment's puzzlement, though, he realizes it's just Tempest fallen asleep in the bath. Merlin's beard.

Of course, it's dangerous for one to fall asleep in a large container of water, and certainly Ewan should take it upon himself to wake her, but… well really, it must also be taken into consideration that Tempest is a lady, and Ewan a man that she's only met perhaps a half hour ago. Still, it would probably be worse for her to drown in a bathtub because of him than for him to catch a slight glimpse (maybe) of something he oughtn't, so he walks over to the screen and turns around to face the rest of the room before tapping on the screen several times. He isn't looking though. Much.

A few knocks into Ewan's rescue mission, there's a splash, and a gasp, and Ewan figures Tempest's arms have fallen from their place on the rim of the tub where she'd been resting her head. Er… not that he actually saw such a thing. Because he wasn't looking. By any means.

"Who is it?" Tempest calls. Ewan panics and blushes before answering with his name. "Ah. Um. Would ye mind? Brigh's put my towel on your side of the screen…"

"No, of course not. I mean, um… Here." Ewan replies, locating the towel and handing it over to Tempest. He waits until he feels the fabric leave his hand to move away. There's more splashing as, Ewan guesses, Tempest stands and climbs out of the tub, and Ewan walks over to sit on the bed on the far(ther) side of the room. Loki nods at him as if to say 'damn right you're sleeping over there.'

After Tempest has summoned a nightgown from her satchel and put it on (though not before it's flown into Ewan's face and Loki's claws on its merry way), she walks over to her bed. Ewan is pretending to read one of the many spell books sitting in the room, but he stares over out of the corner of his eye. Tempest sits on the edge of her bed and shuffles through her bag. Her hair is springing up in wild, dark orange curls on the top, but subdued and damp from her shoulders and below. She's very pretty, Ewan decides. She has soft pale skin and freckles and a thin, pointed face. Like he had pictured fairies as a child before he actually saw some in real life. Tempest is pretty, no doubt. But he should stop staring and get back to his book.

"Ewan." Tempest says, just as he's about to take his own advice, "Ye seem familiar. I feel like I've seen ye before."

"Well," He replies, "I went to Hogwarts. Then again, so did everyone in the British Isles."

"Are ye a Ravenclaw?" He notes how she says this like he might still be such. She doesn't seem like the stuck-in-her-school-years sort.

"No." He tells her, "I was a Hufflepuff."

Tempest considers this for a moment. "Well, I must've seen ye sometime. Even just in the halls." She concludes. Ewan nods. There's a pause. "Have you always… known?" Tempest asks him. Ewan is confused. He thinks he knows what she's asking, but not why.

"Er…no. I'm muggle-born. I had no idea until I received my letter. I used to be good at science, too. I didn't even believe in magic. I wanted to, but… Didn't." He sighs. "Did you?"

"Yes. I'm the same, but I believed. Nobody else did."

Tempest gets a look on her face like she's trying to see something on a far-off horizon. She stays that way, and Ewan watches her but doesn't know what to say. Finally, though, after a couple minutes, she sighs heavily and her shoulders droop.

Ewan notices she seems sad, abruptly, and for some reason he does too. "At least… At least we have magic now, right?" Tempest smiles wanly.

"Right." She turns to smile at Ewan. "Gi'night then." And with that she snuffs the oil lamp nearest her and crawls under the covers. Ewan can't think what to do but follow her example. He's asleep within seconds.


End file.
